Ordinary Days
by Musicalcat98
Summary: a story of the lives of four NYC residents as their lives unknowingly overlap, featuring Jesse, Aubrey, Benji, and Beca. Kinda cheesy, kinda funny, kinda emotional. It's based on the musical Ordinary Days too.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: wow. I haven't been on here forever. I currently have a really fun writing assignment that consists of a short story based on a show of our preference. My teacher didn't specify, so instead of a tv show, I'm doing a musical! I've been in love with this musical for a really long time. I thought it would be a cute thing that fit some of the characters from PP. In the version that I'm turning into school, all of the names are different, but I figured I'd post it. So for the next month, there will be about four more posts with the remainder of this story. Enjoy? Don't hate me pls ?**

 **One By One**

"Good morning! Would you like to take a… Hi! Could I interest you in…Excuse me! A free piece of stock!" Benji pushed his way through the hustle and bustle of New York City as he does every single day. He stopped short of a young man on the street who had a mug for money collecting. "This is for you," he said. "On the road of life, let no obstacle, great or small, stand in your way." The man reluctantly grabbed the paper from Benji. At least he waited for Benji to leave before crumpling it up and tossing it back into the street.

Benji strolled down the street with his backpack slung across his shoulder, as usual. This was his job. Sure, it's a very peculiar job. Could one even call it a _job_? Benji didn't work for a corporation or business of any sort. He liked to call himself an "ambassador for a very very influential downtown artist who has been featured in the New York Times." Turns out, this "artist" liked to paint these pithy sayings all across the city, but then he got arrested. The artist hired Benji to watch his cat…while he's in jail.

Benji saw it as an opportunity to keep the artist's vision with the people on the street, even though the artist was incarcerated. So, he made these flyers with the sayings the artist had painted on the sidewalks and the walls, and every day, Benji passes them out one by one.

"Good morning, sir! Wouldn't you like to brighten up your day?" Benji half-shouted to get the attention of this young man passing in front of him.

"No," the man replied, not even giving Benji a second glance.

"Well, these were made especially, but wait—hey mister!" Benji cried out after him. "Ma'am take a work of art with you today!" he tried again as this petite blonde, young lady passed by, coffee in hand.

"Not today, thanks," she blew him off with one full swoop.

"But it's been created by a—well, screw you! Kindness is a virtue that is oftentimes ignored." Benji took deep breaths to counter the frustration caused by those two strangers.

"The city tends to make me feel invisible," he rambled on to himself. "Yes, of all the superpowers, it's the one I'd like to have, but it isn't very handy when you're trying to get noticed as a pioneer of visual art." Benji shoved the papers back into his backpack and carried on.

After many failed attempts, Benji took out one of the papers and read it carefully. "Never let tall buildings block the view of your dreams." In frustration, Benji balled up the paper and threw it on the street before heading to his favorite place to go contemplate about life.

 **Don't Wanna Be Here**

Beca slumped in the chair across from her classmate, who had ever so graciously invited Beca out to lunch. "So tell me a little bit about yourself!" he suggested, not entirely sure what he was getting himself into.

"Where do I begin?" Beca began to trail off. "I grew up in like, the middle of nowhere, and I swore I would never go back. My hometown was like the suburb of a suburb, I actually lived on a cul-de-sac. That's literally a road that goes 's the definition of dead end. I said 'I can't wait to learn to do a three-point-turn' because I really did not want to be there."

"Wow," he responded, sipping his tea in wonder at the tiny, brunette. "Everyone has always been pretty curious about your story."

"That's not even half of it." Beca explained. "In four long years, I finished up with high school, graduated top of my class. Thank you! But in college I discovered that devising my own major was a bureaucratic pain in the ass. I thought I'd recontextualize Sartre, but could only register for first-year French. Ha! Well, you should've heard my mom when I dropped the bomb and said, 'I don't wanna be here. No, I don't wanna be here.'"

"Geez Beca!"

"Now let me just make one thing clear! I am not a negative person!"

"Okay. I'll believe it when I see it." he huffed under his breath.

"Hey! It's just that I've always known that I had places to go! Dreams to fulfill and ideas to discover. They're just never where I am…" she explained, settling back in her chair. She gets excited when she's explaining something. "After college, I finally got a job in some hum-drum office, like everyone right out of school does. I sat there at my cubicle every day sending faxes, and that's what my life was! Can you believe it?"

"Honestly, I'm having a blast trying to picture you pushing pencils." he teased.

"Pipe it pip squeak."

"Hey! You asked!" he defended himself quickly.

"I went back home and said to my parents 'I know what I've got to do.' And since I am a dork, I moved to New York. And I started grad school. I really don't wanna be here."

 **The Space Between**

Jesse sat at the bar with some colleagues as he celebrated, what he'd call a success.

"There were fourteen blocks between her place and mine. I walked those blocks every single day. I started feeling with each passing sign that she was living too far away. So, I got to her place and said 'We've been together a year. Wouldn't it be genius if I lived, well, right here!' I got one of her priceless stares but said 'Honey, haven't you noticed there's all this space between where I leave my house and I see your face. All this space between when I buzzed your door and then we embrace.' I must've flashed my sexy grin 'cause the next thing you know I am moving in with her!" Jesse lifted up his beer and clanked bottles with his colleagues.

"I'll drink to that." one of them half-drunkenly shouted.

After drinks, Jesse made his way back to his new place and to his wonderful girlfriend. His mind was a little fuzzy due to the alcohol, but he began merging their two apartments into one. Jesse ripped the tape off a cardboard box and laid his claim on a dresser drawer. He said goodbye to those fourteen blocks and just imagined what lied in store.

The city had gotten him down, but that's because you really don't want to do New York alone. This was the best thing he ever did, saying "screw it" and getting rid of the space between he and his girl he can't get out of his head. All the space between, the moment they're in and what's lying ahead. He'd been waiting for something here, but now he's rushing toward the future and leaping clear of the space between.

 **Let Things Go**

"How does this happen?" Aubrey sighed in defeat as she and Chloe took a break from condensing her belongings to make room for Jesse. "All my life, I though the space I had was not enough. Then I opened my closet door and thought 'my life must be more than the sum of this stuff.' It's time to begin to let things go."

An hour later, Chloe and Aubrey are sitting amongst a pile of old memories from Aubrey's life, out-of-date planners and dog-eared postcards.

"What in God's name was I keeping these for?"

They began to pack the small things back into boxes just in case since now Aubrey really needs the space. She's determined to clear out some room in here and let things go.

Chloe came across another box full of mementos, years and years of junk and flotsam, plastic souvenirs, birthday cards, a pamphlet on Van Gough. They both stared in amazement as Aubrey told Chloe why each one was so very special. After packing the box back up very carefully, Aubrey laid eyes on the container she had tucked away years ago. Her heart sank into her stomach.

"It's so very strange finding stuff from a lifetime ago." Aubrey began, not taking her eyes off of the grey lid. "Even when the life you find is yours." Chloe watched as Aubrey swallowed the knot in her throat. "'Cause there are things that make you feel that you need this proof your past was real. And I can't let them go." Aubrey could feel herself start to lose it, so back into boxes she put everything.

"Why can't I just be some other Aubrey who can just let things go? I mean, I said I would try, and I did, but I can't let things go. You know, Martha Stewart, I'm not her. I'm gonna let things go back where they were."


	2. Chapter 2

**Dear Professor Thompson**

Beca tossed her bag onto her bed as she collapsed into her desk chair before attempting to wake up her laptop. As it loaded, she rolled over to her bed and pulled her bag onto her lap. She moved things around, looking for her little green notebook that she never lets out of sight. It's filled with notes and research for her thesis. Beca brings herself to work on it every day in order to graduate. Except this time, the goddamn thing isn't there.

"It's not there. It's not there. IT'S NOT THERE!" Beca let out in a panic. She threw her bag across the room and smothered her face with her pillow as she let out a piercing scream of anger. Beca yanked her laptop off of its charger and immediately opened up her email.

"Dear Professor Thompson,

This is Beca. You're my advisor. I am writing you to ask a little question. I know when we first met you made it very, very clear that under no circumstances be they medical, emotional, familial, or chronic could we ever ever turn in something late. But dear, Professor Thompson, I've a little situation, and I'm hoping you will show a little mercy on me! And grant me an extension on the first step of my thesis?

Yours,

Beca M."

 **Life Story**

As Benji sat on the steps of the Met, a young girl approached him, noticing the colorful paper sticking out of his backpack.

"What's your name?" Benji asked the little girl, looking up in search of her parents.

"Claire!" she proudly replied. "What's that?" she asked curiously, pointing to the papers she had her eye on.

"Oh these? These are some flyers with some happy quotes on them. Would you like one?"

"Yes please!" she squealed. Claire held out her hands as Benji tugged a loose paper out. "Thank you very much!"

"You're very welcome, Claire. I'm Benji." Benji stuck out his hand, and Claire gave him a hearty handshake. "Where's your mom and dad?"

"I don't know. We got split up." she said a little nervously.

"Well, let's wait right here for them to find you." Benji patted the step next to him. He couldn't help but smile as Claire sat next to him and kept rereading the paper over and over again.

"What else do you have in there?" she asked innocently.

"A lot of things!" Benji exclaimed. He pulled the bag onto his lap, pulling out an old photograph. "This is a photograph I found on the street, oh, a year ago. A wrinkled old photograph of a guy and a girl on the beach. He's got her hand in his hand and all seems well. I think they're both smiling, it's hard to tell. There's a crease and a tear masking secrets of their life story." Benji carefully put it back into a pocket in his bag, next pulling out a cute little favorite of his.

"This is an unopened Valentine I found one September. I left it unopened, afraid it would lose its mystique. See, there's a heart on the front drawn in faded ink. You can't read the name, but it made me think. Are these people aware they've lost pieces of their life story?"

"What if the girl never got a valentine that year?" Claire chirped in curiously.

"I truly hope she got more than one." Benji told her.

"Me too! Got anything else?"

"Well," Benji began, pulling out this little green notebook he found earlier today. "I was walking today like I usually walk. When all of a sudden I tripped over something and look, it was this little book. Now, this book is different from most things I've found for one reason. Yeah, it looks old, but there's proof someone dropped this today! Sure, the cover is missing, the font antique. The pages are yellowed, but what's unique are the notes in the margins in ballpoint, I'd guess. And here's today's date and an email address! It's a life story."

"That's so cool! Are you going to return it? That's what I would do!"

"Of course I'm going to return it, silly! I'm going to email the owner when I get home!" Benji assured her. "I pinky promise."

"Mommy! Daddy!" Benji was interrupted by Claire's shrills as she ran down the stairs into the arms of two young-looking people. "I didn't know where you went so I just stayed here! I knew you'd find me!"

"Oh sweetie, I was so worried about you." her mom wrapped her in a hug, kissing the top of her head. "Let's go."

"Bye Benji. Thank you for sitting with me!" Claire called back, waving to him as her parents carried her away.

Benji couldn't help but smile and wave back at the little girl as she was swooped away by her father and mother.

 **Dear Professor Thompson - 2**

Beca laid on her bed after hours of retracing her steps to find her notebook. It was pointless. "Might as well try again." she huffed as she pulled her laptop onto her lap.

"Dear Professor Thompson,

Hey, it's Beca, how are things going? Heard your latest book is done, can't wait to buy it. In the meantime I've one teeny little question to propose to you as one academic to another academic, have you ever, say, misplaced a whole entire book containing your research? God, Professor Thompson, I'm a fool, I have to tell you that I might have left my research on the subway somewhere. So, I'm hoping you'll just give me my degree without my thesis.

Love, :)

Beca M."

 **I'm Trying**

Aubrey and Jesse sat on the floor of her apartment, unpacking his last box before officially being moved in together.

"Uhm, what is this?" Aubrey asked curiously, holding up a weird contraption.

"A childhood memento. Let's put it there on the shelf," Jesse suggested, pointing to the shelf above the tv.

"How 'bout the back of the pantry?"

"My brother made it himself!" he defended.

"Good thing your brother doesn't live here."

"Alright fine." Jesse put it back in the box and took another look around the room. Sure, everything was out of boxes, but they were definitely out of room. "Hey, do you think we could clean out some of the stuff in your closet?" he suggested. He made his way to the bedroom with Aubrey quickly at his heels.

"What stuff? Didn't we make room for all your things? Look, your drafting table fits perfectly out there!" Aubrey pointed out to the table that was squished between the couch and kitchen table.

"Honey, what is all this old junk? Do you really need it?"

"Just things I want to hold on to."

"Oh, come on. Old Birthday cards, ticket stubs, I've never even seen you wear this sweater!" Jesse explained, picking up an old navy sweater that was folded up in the back of her closet.

"I want to keep it okay!" Aubrey began to yell. She snatched the sweater from him and put it back in her closet.

"Hey, let's take the day, just sort everything out. We'll both be given more space once everything is in its place." Jesse rubbed Aubrey's arms and slipped his hands in hers before pulling her back to the living room.

"Okay, Jess." Aubrey leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Oh my God, Jesse." she exclaimed, pulling out the still shiny cover from a year ago.

"What is it?" he asked quickly, thinking something was wrong.

"You kept this?"

"Of course I did!"

"Top Ten Things to do in New York Before you Leave it."

"The cover story in this magazine. I threw it in the trash."

"And I said 'Go retrieve it.'" Aubrey reminded him. "Nine of those things were things you'd never seen. Number Ten, eat a bagel."

"That's the one I'd done," Jesse teased, settling back on the couch with Aubrey.

"Number Nine, root for the Mets." Aubrey continued, resting her head on his shoulder while reading the article.

"Number Eight, insisted we go to Brooklyn to see where they make beer. And Number seven called for Trapeze lessons."

"Remember?" Aubrey squealed. "They had a tent sent up right by the river. That whole circus thing, who knew? You go in a classroom for an hour and they show you what to do! Then, one at a time, they make you climb so high into the air."

"And as I went up, it was hard not to throw up. But I was trying." Jesse added, kissing the top of her head. "Let's see, Broadway shows, Botanic Gardens, and a tour of City Hall."

"Don't forget Number Three, describe some cooking classes at the Institute Francais."

"I'm allergic to the French, you know." Jesse smirked, remembering that scary memory.

"So you can't cook." she teased.

"But honey, look. I'm trying!"

"I know you are, Jess." Aubrey gave Jesse a small peck on his check and settled back down. "There was that fancy store with the salesman who ignored us. And the Zoo with that giraffe!"

"It was fun, you know, to see the city." Jesse admitted. "I would do it all again. But that was what, a year ago? And all those places, well. We haven't been since then."

"I remember when we finally got finished. The Number One thing to do, I hadn't been to Central Park in ages, so I was soaking up the view." Aubrey smiled as she vividly remembered that night. They were both standing still, the city's silhouette against the sky. She thought "why can't this moment last, instead of slipping into the past? I want to keep that moment with me all of the time." Aubrey looked up at Jesse who was smiling at the magazine. "And heaven knows that I'm-" she started to stay.

"Hey, let me be your tour guide this time. I know exactly where to find Number Eleven." Jesse cut in, pulling her up to her feet and kissing her suddenly.

"I'm trying." Aubrey thought to herself as she followed Jesse out of their apartment.


	3. Chapter 3

**Saturday at the Met**

Beca marched into the Met as frustrated as she could be. She stopped in the foyer, unsure of which way to. Normally, her sense of direction is irrefutable. It's a trait that's so innate that it's absolutely indisputable. She turned left and followed the hallway until she hit a dead end. As she tried to figure out where she needed to me, frustration built up inside her.

"I don't understand why I can't find my way through the fucking Metropolitan Museum!" Beca muttered to herself. She pulled out her phone and opened up her email to reread it once more.

 _Dear Beca,_

 _We should meet so I can give you back your book._

"Okay." she muttered.

Another email.

 _Dear Beca,_

 _We should meet somewhere in public so you won't think I'm a crook. At the Met museum in room twenty-one there's a landscape by Monet. You can't miss it! So I'll see you there at half past twelve this coming Saturday._

"Okay, first of all. Who doesn't just say, 'Let's meet at Starbucks.' The Met museum is friggin immense. And secondly, the Met's the only place in New York City where the traffic patterns don't make sense. Sure, they've got a map, oh, excuse me, a plan, as they call it, but it isn't worth my spit. You'd be better off following bread crumbs through this godforsaken museum." Beca marched through the museum, determined to get her book back.

Jesse led the way through the museum, pulling Aubrey behind him like a kid in a candy store. "Hey, come on, let's go. We've got a whole museum to visit. We should probably pick up on the pace."

"Jesse, we are at the Met. The thing that makes it special is it takes a while to wander through the place." Aubrey reminded him, stopping in front of a painting that caught her eye.

"This says to skip this room." he pleaded, flipping through the pamphlet he picked up.

"This says that x-rays show an entire other portrait on the canvas below. Isn't that weird, how it just disappeared?" Aubrey trailed off, staring at the beautiful painting.

"Excuse me, is that a Monet?" a tiny brunette interrupted Aubrey's train of thought.

"I think that's a Manet." Aubrey admitted.

"Monet."

"Manet."

The brunette had a spasm and marched off in a hurry. Aubrey stood there a little confused before turning around to see Jesse bouncing from painting to painting. He ran to the next room before Aubrey had even moved on from the Manet.

"He wanted to come here." she began to think. "He loves it, I know. Look, he's running ahead like a kid in a toy store, and me, I'm here watching him go. He likes the masters while I prefer whackier things, so of course we wind up in separate wings." Aubrey sat down on the bench in the first room as she began to actually think about everything. "I should go find him, not leave him alone, but I don't know, lately, when he's right beside me, I'd rather be off on my own. I mean, maybe I'm crazy, but really, I think he'll be fine if he goes his own way, and I just go mine." Aubrey got up and continued her trip through the museum…without Jesse.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for Gallery Twenty-One?" a petite brunette approached Jesse.

"I think this is Gallery K." Jesse told her, barely taking his eyes off of the painting he was observing.

"K?"

"K." As she marched away, Jesse shrugged and continued his walk through the museum. "So much for Saturday at the Met." he thought. "I wish she'd look at this painting." he muttered quietly. "Describe what she sees. Is she moved by that column? Or maybe those trees? Would she tell me she hates it or say something more? Would it change our perspective from the moment before?" Jesse strolled through the remainder of the museum, contemplating his future with Aubrey.

Aubrey walked through a few galleries before stopping in Gallery K. One of the paintings had caught her eye. "Look at this painting, how it swallows you up like a storm." she thought. "Those orangey yellows still, keeping you warm. How everything shimmers red and carries you away." Aubrey let her thoughts wander as she adjusted the strap of her purse on her shoulder. "Why did we come here?" she said allowed. "I'll never know. It's like the colors in this painting might get lost if he came in to say hello."

"Hello." Jesse stumbled upon Aubrey staring at the same picture he couldn't get out of his head.

"Hello. Ready to go?" Aubrey asked, liking her arm in his.

"Oh," he trailed off. "Ready. Let's go."

Beca marched through last Gallery she thought there was. "That stupid email ' _Dear Beca_ " she mocked. "I don't think I'm going to ever find my book. I've been wandering around for an hour, or, well, twenty minutes, and I think this was a trick. I've been duped into spending my afternoon in this awful, crowded, stupid, ugly, horrible museum!" Beca collapsed on the bench in defeat.

"You must be Beca!" Benji stuck out his hand to the tiny little brunette that had finally made it to Gallery 21. "Hi, I'm Benji."

 **Favorite Places**

Jesse walked down the street with Rocky, Aubrey's dog for the daily evening walk. It was one of his favorite pastimes if he was being completely honest. Aubrey would take her shower while he walked the dog. They walked to the little bench on the edge of one of the parks near their apartment. Rocky jumped up on the bench and rested his head on Jesse's lap as he started to take in the evening's beauty. All he could think about was the garden on this block that's tucked away behind this carriage house. He can see it from their bedroom window, stretching toward the sidewalk. Even though he looks there every day, he's never found the entrance to this perfect little place he'd like to go. But still it's one of his favorite places. One of his most favorite places. A patch of green he's only seen from much too far away.

When he was five or six, Jesse started drawing crayon colored pictures of a magic land that floated high above the treetops. Every night he'd fall asleep and dream that he could fly there and that he'd built this floating kingdom in the sky. And still , he tries 'cause it is one of his favorite places. But here's the twist, it can't exist. "So why do I keeping thinking that it does?" Jesse thought to himself.

"What do you think, Rocky? I mean all my life, I've imagined all these places sketching each and every blueprint in my mind, and all I want is someone who can help me reach these places that I dream about but never seem to find because all of my favorite places, all of my most favorite places are places that I've never been." Jesse sighed and scratched Rocky behind his ears.

"I wake up to that woman sleeping well into the morning. I like watching how the sunlight trickles down her shoulder, and though I've tried so many times to tell her that I love her, I haven't found a way inside her heart. And it is one of my favorite places. One of my most favorite places. One more favorite place I've never been." Jesse looked down to see Rocky looking up at him with his warm brown eyes. "Come on, boy. Let's go back to mama." And with that, Rocky and Jesse made their way back to the apartment.

 **Sort-Of Fairy Tale**

"So." Benji trailed off when Beca didn't return his handshake offer.

"So." Beca echoed. "Do you have my book?" Beca started before being rudely interrupted.

"I think this is sort of neat." Benji sang cheerfully.

"What?"

"You and I, here to meet. It's about as precious as precious can get. I mean, look, we're both here, and we've met at the Met!" Benji explained, practically dancing around the gallery.

"Listen-" Beca tried once more

"Anyway, ever since I found your book I have pictured this moment."

"Really?" Beca knew this guy had a lot of free time if that's how he chose to spend it.

"Uh-huh!"

"Wow."

"I imagined me standing here with Monet for a while," Benji began. "And then you stumbling in," Benji paused, taking a good look at Beca, "but with more of a smile. Yes, well, in my head we hug and our friendship sets sail like an almost, not quite, New York, sort of, fairy tale." Benji extended his arms and took a step towards Beca who instantly backed up.

"Don't touch me." she warned.

"I sensed from your notebook your fiery nature. Your penmanship crackles with rage." he explained.

"What?" Beca could feel anger building up inside her as she started clenching her fists.

"Your handwriting's wonderfully hard to decipher, but boy does it conjure you right off the page!"

"Wait, you read my notes?" Beca was practically shouting.

"Your lack of hesitation. Your violent punctuation. Yes, I knew right away you'd be someone to meet. It's not every day I'm convinced so completely, but something is telling me we're on the trail of a semi, could be, quasi, sort of, fairy tale." Benji finished, flashing his dorky smile at Beca.

"Listen, I have a very important meeting —"

"This moment could be like a scene from a movie, two hapless strangers united by fate."

"Yes, but I—"

"And I think real lives make the best kind of movies." he interrupted again. "I've always said, 'Benji, just wait. Give yourself over to fate.' And soon without warning, your life's gonna start. One stroke at a time, like a great work of art. And now you being here, I think this could unveil a perfect, lasting, Benji, sort of—"

Beca couldn't take it any more. Her frustration came toppling out of her tiny figure. "Look, I don't mean to be a buzzkill. But, here is something you should know. I have wasted half my morning coming here 'cause you're a fucking weirdo." Beca could feel herself getting riled up so she took a deep breath. "No, I will not lose my composure 'cause yes, I'm a civil kind of girl. Ordinarily I take deep breaths and count to ten, but right now I'm so far from zen that frankly there is nothing I can do but tell you." Her anger peaked as she marched toward Benji, cornering him into the wall. "Thanks for the waste of a day, and thanks for all this annoyance and strife. Yes, thanks for this waste of my time, and for making me a part of your waste of a life." Beca walked away and pulled at her hair in frustration. "I came here for my book. Not some stupid weirdo and his stupid painting." she muttered relatively loud.

Benji turned around and stared at the painting in front of him. "This painting reminds me of people like us, thousands of tiny specks."

Beca rolled her eyes and muttered "oh my God" under her breath.

"Huddled together in random arrangements that nobody expects." he continued. "Every dot, on its own ordinary and pale. But thrown together one by one, they make this dazzling, joyous, hopeful, sort of," he couldn't help but look over at Beca, arms crossed in front of her chest and anxiously tapping her foot, "never mind." he finally gave up.

"So, can I have my book?" she practically begged once he was finished.

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Benji put the book in her hands as quick as she yanked it from him.

"Oh, thank God! My professor was not going to give me an extension because he's like this Stalin of English Lit who has yet to crack a smile in his life, and if I didn't show up in his office today with these notes, my life would've been over!" Beca held her notebook tightly against her chest as she pleaded her case.

"Okay."

Beca mentally punched herself once she had realized what she'd done. "Oh. Uhm. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" she asked, hoping he'd say no.

"Really?" Benji perked back up to his normal self.

"You're gay, right?" she asked, trusting her gut feeling.

"Uh-huh!"

"Twenty minutes."

And with that, Beca guided Benji to the nearest Starbucks to fulfill her offer.

 **Fine**

Aubrey and Jesse were out shopping for a bottle of wine to bring to her cousin's soiree. That's where it all started. With her cousin being a sou chef, she's very gourmet. When Jesse reached for his favorite cabernet, Aubrey couldn't help but look at him like he's an idiot.

"Darling, the wine." she said, gesturing to the bottle he held in his hands.

"The wine?"

"The wine! They're serving monkfish, so darling the wine can't be red. How 'bout this Austrian Riesling instead?" she suggested, pulling the bottle off of the shelf.

"Honey, you know I don't like the Riesling. When have you ever seen me drink Riesling." Jesse explained, holding tightly to his bottle of cabernet.

"Never, but can't you listen this once, red wine and fish, you'll look like a dunce!"

"Fine! I'll bring the red, you bring the white that way I'll still get drunk, you'll still be right." he settled.

"Fine." Aubrey gritted, making her way to the checkout line.

"Fine." he echoed, following her up front.

Then there was the cab. They were stuck in the middle of Broadway, waiting for ten minutes. They were twelve blocks away and already late. Aubrey pointed out there'd be no delay if they would just turn that away, so she conversed with the driver and convinced him to turn down the side street.

"Honey, the cab!" Jesse stated as sweetly as possible, still bitter from the wine debacle.

"The cab."

"The cab was pointed squarely down Broadway. I know you're concerned, but your cousin's on Broadway, so why have we turned?" Jesse asked, unsure of what logic was running through her mind.

"Darling, I know my cousin's on Broadway, but there was lots of traffic on Broadway!" Aubrey's voice grew louder and louder as she had to make her case.

"Surely, but now in my own defense, we're farther away, which doesn't make sense!"

"Fine, driver, please stop here if you would. I think walking will do us both some good." Aubrey commanded.

"Fine." Jesse sighed as he opened the door.

"Fine." she spat.

They didn't say anything as they were walking down Broadway. It's like they were walking next to a stranger. They had that feeling more and more like they don't even know each other. But right now it's cold, and they're still in a hurry. Aubrey's not gonna stop, and she's not gonna worry. They'll be fine.

And then it starts to rain.

Aubrey groans in distress and looks up to curse the weather. Her hair starts to drip. Her shoes are a mess. Her bag's getting wet, and so is her dress. She puts her bag on top of her head to shield herself from the rain but it's no use.

Jesse stopped and admired the change in weather. He loves the rain, how everything shimmers!

The wind was picking up, and they've got no umbrella.

Jesse couldn't help but think about how the rain dots Aubrey's hair like morning dew. It brought him back to the thought of the day he first met her. A bucket of snow had landed in her hair. He pictured he shaking the snowflakes off her shoulder, and somehow he wants to get them back to there. He wants her to know that he can't bare to spend a single day without her. But how can she know?

"Shit! OW! My shoe, my shoe, my shoe, dammit!" Aubrey cut off his train of thought as her ankle twisted under the breaking of her heel. "This is really fantastic, no really absurd, and what, you just stand there, and don't say a word?" Jesse just looked at her with a blank expression on his face. "Fine, I'm gonna go, we're late for my cousin. God help the soul who's late for my cousin! You can stay put here out in the rain, but don't leave it up for me to explain. Give me the wine." Aubrey held out her hand, but Jesse refused to give it to her. "Don't take all day." she warned.

"I'm coming with you!"

"Fine then! Bring it yourself, your cabernet, Jesus!"

"Shut up Aubrey and marry me!" Jesse practically shouted over her rant.

"Fine!" she spat, starting to march forward only to stop in her tracks and turn around to see her boyfriend standing there with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets looking down at the ground. "What?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update! The actual rough draft is finished, but I've had zero time to go through and change names and proofread. There's only one more post for the story and then it's over! :) It's been great. Enjoy!**

 **Big Picture**

Beca and Benji approached the Starbucks counter together, Beca knowing what she wants and Benji feeling a sense of being overwhelmed.

"I'll have a mocha caramel latte-chino made with skim milk, no whipped cream. Please put that in a grande cup, but use the same amount of coffee that you'd put into a tall. That way there's about an inch of extra room on top to stir in my own nutmeg without spilling any coffee at all." Beca spun her head to look at Benji who was staring at the menu intently. "What do you want?" she barked.

"Uhm…I'll have a tea." he muttered.

"What kind?" she tried.

"Just. Tea?" Benji didn't know there were options. He wasn't even sure if they sold tea there.

Beca looked back at the barista and rolled her eyes. "He'll have your green Darjeeling tea, which I am sure you know cannot be steeped for more than ninety-five seconds." After handing the barista her money she turned back around towards Benji. "Shall we?" she asked, gesturing towards the end of the counter where they would get their drinks.

"So what's your deal?" she asked curiously as they sat down at an empty table with their drinks.

"My what?" Benji echoed. He hardly knew what she was talking about.

"Your deal." She responded. "What are you about?"

"Well, I'm about five foot eight, I guess." Benji let out a small chuckle before noticing Beca's unamused face. "You really don't find me funny at all."

"Funny, yes. Amusing, no. But seriously, Benji, I want to know. Describe to me your big picture."

"Well, there's this Picasso," he began.

"Don't start." Beca cut him off before he could continue down that path. "Everyone's got a big picture. Something they shoot for that sets them apart. We've all got an awful lot to do before we're dead. So, where do you see yourself in, say, five years?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead." Benji admitted, taking a sip from his tea.

"Are you gonna be serious?" Beca asked, unsure if this was a huge waste of her time. Probably.

"Do I have to be?" he asked, making his puppy-dog face. "Well. I work for an artist." he finally admitted.

"Tell me what you do!"

"I don't know, I watch his cat. And this morning I fixed his curtain rod." Benji trailed off.

"Sure, okay, that pays the rent, but that is not exactly what I meant when I asked to hear your big picture, something beyond your daily routine. Talk about your big picture, the fairytale ending that you've always seen. I am sure there's something more to you than doing chores. Everyone's got a big picture in mind." Beca admitted.

"So what's your's?"

"Well, since you asked." Beca began. "In five years, I'll have an amazing apartment with bookshelves built into the walls. A window that looks out on someplace big and a personal assistant who screens my calls. The book I write will be required reading to get into the seminars that I'll be leading. That's the plan as far as I can see it." Beca felt herself smiling until reality set in. "And yet it isn't quite apparent what I'm supposed to do to get it." Beca took a sip of her coffee and sighed. "Some big picture." After a brief moment of silence, Beca chirped up. "How's your tea?"

"My what?" Benji asked, caught completely off guard.

"Your tea?" Beca repeated. Man, he needed to clean out his ears.

"Oh, it's sort of…gotten cold." he admitted after taking a small sip to check.

"These stupid baristas don't know how to heat up a proper —" Beca started to shout at the lack of competence.

"Beca, it's really okay. Look, I know that we just met, but it seems to me that maybe you might wanna get some perspective on this big picture. Big, after all, is a relative term. Maybe this whole big picture shouldn't be something on which you stand firm. You're in a rut, who cares, so what if your picture's not quite clear? I mean, you and me and lukewarm tea. This could be your really big picture right here." Benji tried to get his message across to her.

"Oh my God, you're right." she sarcastically admitted.

"See?" he exclaimed.

"Sitting here at Starbucks drinking mediocre coffee with a professional cat sitter is all my life is going to amount to."

"That's not really what I meant." Benji sighed.

"No, it's okay. I'm a strong woman, I can handle it." Beca joked. "Oh my God, what time is it?" she pulled out her phone, confirming her worst thoughts. "I have to go!"

"No, you don't have to go!" Benji tried.

"Yes, I do. I'm late for my appointment." Beca explained, gathering up her things.

"Beca, there's something I want to show you."

"I can't!" she reminded.

"But Beca!" he called after her.

"Not now!"

"Then soon?" he asked.

"Yes, later Benji!"

"Promise?"

"I promise, later, Benji!" she promised, linking her pinky in his like a child.

"Call me then." Benji told her as he ushered her out of the store.

"I'll call you later." she echoed, blending into the chaos of the bustling city.

"Where are you going, Aubrey?" Jesse called after as she turned and began to get away.

"Please don't—" she warned.

"Bree, stop!" Jesse tried desperately.

"Not now." she shouted, her voice cracking as the lump grew bigger and tears built up in her eyes.

"You can't just leave me in the rain and hope that things will wash away." Jesse pleaded.

"It's not my fault that it is raining." she told him, wiping her tears away.

"Aubrey!"

"It's not my fault that it is raining, is it?" she mumbled to herself.

"Answer me!" Jesse begged. "Would you just listen? Don't you want to… Jesus, Aubrey. Where are you going, Aubrey? Can't you just talk to me, Bree?" Jesse felt his heart drop to his stomach as the golden sunshine disappeared around the corner into the gray of life.

 **Hundred-Story City**

Jesse made his way to the nearest bar and texted his best friend, Jason. He already downed a few beers by the time Jason showed up at the bar.

"What am I doing here in the middle of freaking New York City?" he asked drunkenly. "Blurting out proposals and holding Cabernet." Jesse held up the bottle and handed it to Jason. "And what am I doing here with Aubrey, trying to push our lives to some degree she clearly doesn't want since she's gone. And if we're moving nowhere, should I move on?"

Jason knew that Jesse had to get all of this out of his system so he sat there and listened as his best friend wallowed in his sorrows. "I moved to the city and thought I couldn't take it and certainly I never thought I'd stay. But then she came along and was the one thing in the city that made me feel like I belonged here every single day. No matter where she'd take me, somehow she would always make me feel a part of some great tapestry the world had spun. And I could always look at her and not feel so alone. But suddenly that's done…isn't it…" Jesse put his head down on the counter, feeling the warm buzz of alcohol take over.

He couldn't make heads or tails now of what they have been doing. He thought stepping up and moving in would make things clear. The one thing in the city that he always thought was certain was the she and him were working hard to build a future here. Sure, maybe he was careless. Maybe he should try to wear less of his heart upon his sleeve and let her say goodbye. "I don't want to start that now." he mumbled. "I don't want to let go 'cause she's the only reason why I'm livin' in this hundred story city where you've got to hold on tight to what you care for. She's why I'm one out of a hundred million people, sticking out the angry cars, the crowded streets, the lack of stars, putting up with so much that it's all a blur. That's what I've been doing just to be with her."

Jason got Jesse cleaned up as much as possible and walked him out of the bar. "I think I'd rather walk alone." Jesse told him, hiking up his jacket collar to brace the chilly weather. He needed to sober up. Jason walked with him a little and then turned down his own street to head home to his wife, Claire.

Jesse didn't understand what he's supposed to do now. "I don't understand these people always standing still." he mumbled as he passed a crowd of people stopped on the sidewalk to observe a guitarist.

"I don't want to be a person who is always standing still." he thought to himself. "I wish that I could make the people disappear except for her."

"I just want to see her." he cried out as he stopped in his tracks and looked up to see the hundred-story buildings. "What am I doing in this hundred-story city where you're always moving fast but going nowhere? Oh, I don't care if there's a hundred million people, I just want to be with one!" Jesse could feel himself start to lose it as he got closer to their apartment. He always told Aubrey that there was nothing they wouldn't make it through, but she's unearthed a break-up clause which is wanting to put life on pause. So, Jesus Aubrey, what now?

Jesse unlocked the door and was greeted by a dark and cold apartment, the sound of tiny puggle feet pattering against the wood to greet him at the door. "Hey boy." he said quietly, rubbing Rocky behind his ears.

 **Party Interlude**

Aubrey finally arrived to her cousin's party, Riesling in hand. "Hey, I'm ready for the party!" she said, kissing her cousin on the cheek. "I know I'm late, but, God, I swear, you live so far downtown!"

"Where's Jesse?" her cousin asked, pouring Aubrey a glass of wine to take the edge off.

"What was that?" Aubrey asked hurriedly.

"Jesse?"

"Yes, of course he's coming to the party." she blurted out, her eyes darting around the room.

"Alright then where is he?"

"I don't know, he's back at home still, maybe coming down with something." Aubrey lied, she could feel herself panicking.

"Are you sure? Are you telling me a lie?"

"No for Christ's sake, I'm not lying." she shouted, all eyes on her.

"Aubrey what's wrong? Have you been crying?"

"No, my God, I've not been crying!" Aubrey defended, wiping any signs of tears off of her delicate face. "Will you excuse me for a minute?"

And with that, Aubrey was off.

 **Calm**

Beca was on the 6th train heading uptown to her lit. professor's office. It's like light years off of campus, don't ask her why. She's sandwiched in-between this guy who's literally drooling and some European hipster who, well lets be honest, smells. Woody Allen heard Gershwin in the air when he thought Manhattan. Well, Beca is not so impressed, she hears like Philip Glass at best. She spends all her time just trying to get calm. But it's not working.

Clearly, she's a magnet for a special breed of psycho who thinks being weird's a valuable use of time. And her notebook likes to wander on its own across the city, taking with it her whole thesis, which she needs to write, like, now.

"I don't remember the Muppets getting hives when they took Manhattan." she whined, scratching at her arm in frustration and anxiety. Her own diagnosis says she's creeping toward psychosis 'cause she cannot find a place to get calm. It's really hard, you know!

She tried to take up yoga, but you'll be surprised how many folks don't think deodorant is Zen. She even saw a life coach her told her she should breathe. Just breathe. But every time she took in a breath, she visualized that life coach's death. She's having lunch at Cafè Pierre and she's choking and choking and CHOKING and finally she's calm.

Anyway, she gets to her professor's and he sits her down and tells her that her thesis on Virginia Woolf feels somehow false. "But what I'm working from is not so much a thesis but the fact that she went crazy and that seems well, apropos!" Her professor just tosses back his head and a dry Manhattan. She's wondering which will kill him quicker, the Big Apple or the liquor when suddenly she panics and tells herself she must get someplace calm!

Beca up and ran toward Penn Station. She thought her head was ready to explode. She hopped a train to Jersey, just as fast as any person could go. Then 90 minutes out, she got off at some provincial hamlet she had never heard of. Beca noticed a real estate office right on the block and made her way there. Inside, she realized that she could afford a two bedroom, and she went into shock! "What the heck!" she exclaimed and wrote a check 'cause there's sunlight and closets and laundry, but mostly it's calm.

Really calm.

Strangely calm.

Like times square at five A.M. calm.

Like totally freak you out calm.

Like Beca thought she was gonna slowly go crazy and throw herself over the balcony, calm.

"Damn it." she muttered as she stood on her balcony, looking down into the green grass she never saw in the city except when walking through the park.

Beca went back to the real estate office and tore up her deposit. Then she headed back to Penn Station. Of course, Beca's luck would be that the subway's broken, so she walked four miles home. Like 14 hours later, she got back to her apartment with her crazy spastic roommates and a room, well, of her own. She's got this black and white poster on her wall that says "My Manhattan" and she gives it her middle finger, but she lets her gaze linger. And she notices how the people look like tiny specks of grey, all haphazardly arranged just like they were in that Monet. And suddenly, she's struck with this bizarro revelation that like, Benji's whacked out theory might deserve some exploration. She sat on her bed and she realized that she's finally calm.

 **Life Story (Reprise)**

Benji sat in his chair in the study, going through his collection of memorabilia from the years. He knows that everyone's got a big picture that guides them through life toward what they want to be. So if everyone's got a big picture, how come his picture's something that he still has yet to see? He pulled out a flyer that's been in his backpack for weeks now, buried down deep, getting faded and wrinkled and torn. He has been making these flyers 'til kingdom come writing all of these words that now seem, kind of dumb. It's hard for him not to feel that this isn't his real life story.

He imagined he'd come here and do something big that the artist in him would prevail. But all he's done so far is copy these words from some hippie downtown who's sitting in jail.

Well, this is a guy who cannot be described as a quitter. This is a guy who should do what he set out to do. You might snicker and laugh that it's so cliché to think making these means he has something to say. But he does, and that's why he wishes they could be his life story.

Benji's thoughts were cut off by the ringing of his cellphone playing the StarWars theme song. "Deb!" he exclaimed, recognizing the number that popped up.

 **Gotta Get Out**

"Taxi!" Aubrey yelled, tears rolling down her red, puffy cheeks. One pulled to the curb as she waved her hand up and down to get their attention. "Thanks." she muttered as she scooted into the musty cab. She let out a small sigh of relief since she was finally alone. She threw her head back against the headrest of the back seat. "Hi." she finally let out, noticing that the driver was waiting on her instructions.

"I'm not usually inclined to take up useless conversations with a Taxi driver, but I saw as I was walking all these taxis without passengers in constant circulation without a destination. And that's not what life should be about, so we're gonna get out!" Aubrey confessed. Considering the circumstances, strangely, she was on an adrenaline high.

"Alright Miss. Where are we getting out to?" the driver asked hesitantly.

"I don't know." she admitted. "Cross the bridge, take the road to another state. We'll sit back through the noise and traffic and wait for some kind of scenery change. Wait till the view from our windows is strange." Aubrey looked up front and saw the driver's face in the mirror. "Hey! Trust me I'm not crazy. I can see you making faces in the rearview mirror. I will pay you what the meter says just drive me up the highway. I don't care how far the way is. I guess what I'm trying to say is 'In the bike lane of life, sometimes you gotta get out' okay!"

"I still need an address." the driver told her. Every time he opened his mouth, Aubrey could smell the cheap cigarettes and faint alcohol.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Weren't you listening? I don't know where to! You're the professional! You should be making these kinds of decisions!" Aubrey let out a huge sigh and started picking at her nail-beds, an old nervous habit of hers. "I'm sorry." she finally admitted. "I am really not a person who is qualified to tell you where we should be going. I mean I just left my boyfriend standing back there on the sidewalk which is bad enough without disclosing…he was actually proposing." She had finally admitted to herself. "That's it! There isn't any doubt that I gotta get out!"

"I'm trying, ma'am, but you aren't being very helpful." the driver half-shouted as he drove through NYC.

"Come on! Hit the gas, make a turn, let this taxi speed 'cause there isn't a thing in the world that I need more than someplace my head can be clear, probably miles and miles from here. I don't mean to freak, and I don't mean to shout, but right not, God, I really gotta get out. I can't stay here anymore." Aubrey was getting worked up, she could feel her anxiety taking over her body as the seconds ticked by. "I just gotta get out though I still don't really know what I am getting out for." she admitted to herself under her breath.

Aubrey knew she should be near him and, Christ, fell happy, but it's like something's changed inside of her DNA. She just wants to tell him that she's lost and that she's frightened, but something's there that smothers all the words she wants to say. So how can she be what makes him happy when she can't even make a promise that she will stay?

"I've gotten used to keeping all this space between us. And when he looks right at me, I just want to run away." She admitted quietly, picking the nonexistent dirt from under her nails. "I need to accept the fact we're through. We won't get that far staying where we are." Aubrey glanced out the window and something caught her eye in the sky. "Oh my God! Stop the car! I gotta get out!" she shouted, practically jumping out of the cab before it had come to a complete stop.


End file.
